


the timing is right (the stars are aligned)

by timelxrd



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Gen, One Shot, Plot What Plot, i just really love bill potts okay, reunion of sorts, short fic, thasmin, thirteen being bullied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 11:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21373165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelxrd/pseuds/timelxrd
Summary: “It’s you, isn’t it?” Bill’s head tilts and she loosens her hand from her girlfriend’s grip to take a curious step closer. “You did the weird golden-sparkly thing, didn’t you?”
Relationships: Heather (Doctor Who: The Pilot)/Bill Potts, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 15
Kudos: 171





	the timing is right (the stars are aligned)

“Mate, that was proper cool,” Ryan exclaims on their amble back to the blue police box they now call their second home. He jogs forward a few steps over the pebbled beach towards the leader of the group, nudging her shoulder playfully. “We saved a whole civilisation today, Doc.” 

“We did,” the Doctor beams, offering up an encouraging pat to Ryan’s shoulder. Her strides are long and sure as she plucks her key from her pocket in readiness to return to her ship. “All thanks to you guys. As John Maxwell once said,_ teamwork makes the dream work — _or was it Marilyn? Wait — maybe it was Obama?” She directs the last lines to herself, creases brandishing the bridge of her nose when it scrunches in thought. 

“If you think any harder your head might implode, Doctor,” Yaz notes from her other side, jumping back when their pinky fingers nudge and brush in what little space there is between them. The Doctor barely flinches, looping her fingers between Yaz’s and squeezing as if by second nature. Yaz swallows audibly, cheeks burning. 

Graham and Ryan notice their interaction with a trade of knowing smiles and fondly rolling eyes — they know the score by now. 

“You reckon the Canaries are going to be alright after all this, Doc?” Grahan queries, sparing a glance towards the dispersing crowds of townsfolk behind them. 

“They’re _ Kinariams _ , Graham — and yes, they’ll be fine. Tomorrow they’ll elect their new queen and the kingdom signs a peace treaty, and that’s that — it’s just a shame they had to learn the hard way,” the Doctor reels, reluctantly loosening her hold on Yaz’s hand so she can raise her key to the lock and twist. “But you can’t always save _ everyone _, I suppose.”

Momentarily, the rest of the group are reminded that, despite saving a civilisation, there were still victims needed to be laid to rest. 

Graham pads inside first, eager to warm up in a cosy corner of the library with a book and a cup of tea. Ryan heads after him, but pauses in the doorway when a ruckus sounds behind them. 

“Hey!” a voice, familiar to one member of the group only, breaks through the bustling crowds, and from a distance, a dark-skinned young woman winds through throngs of people, hand-in-hand with a shorter woman, around the same age. “Wait up!”

Beside her, Yaz can feel the Doctor freeze and stiffen up as though suddenly surrendered to the hands of a puppeteer who doesn’t yet know what to do with her. 

“Thanks for saving our arses out there, you guys,” the unknown woman praises, her smile wide and unfiltered. There’s a cheekiness to the curve of her lips which is only emphasised in her large eyes. “We only came along for a date.” 

“No worries, mate. It’s — sort of our thing,” Ryan chimes with an easy smile and a roll of his shoulders. When he leans against the door of the TARDIS, though, the stranger glances between the four of them and the box in intense curiosity. 

Yaz reaches out to brush the back of her hand against the Doctor’s forearm when the blonde refuses to glance up from her sand-dusted boots, blinking once, twice, three times before shaking her head and straightening up with a stubborn sniff. She doesn’t see the way her eyes glisten. 

Pink-tinted waves crash and lap at the rusty shore with the turning of the tides. 

“Wait— is that —” the young woman starts, then locks eyes with Graham, scrutinising. “Have you changed your face again?” 

There’s a beat. 

Graham’s eyes squint in open confusion. “Pardon, cockle?” 

The Doctor chooses the perfect moment to glance up, assuaging her old friend’s suspicions with a simple exchange of emerald green with deep brown. Her eyes are wide and glossy and her features are trying and failing to mirror her emotions down to the very twitch of her lips. 

Yaz glances between them, attempting to read their silent communication. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Bill’s head tilts and she loosens her hand from her girlfriend’s grip to take a curious step closer. “You did the weird golden-sparkly thing, didn’t you?”

The Doctor’s bottom lip trembles and she breathes a huff of laughter, but it sounds sad. She nods mutedly. 

“Bit of an upgrade, I’ve gotta say,” Bill teases, delighting in the familiarity to the blonde’s eyes even after all this time. She’s not used to the moisture pooling there, though, so she does all she can think to do. 

The Doctor mouths a faint ‘oof’ when strong arms, now at her level, swoop over her shoulders and draw her into a hug. She has to swallow heavily to keep a quiet, teary little sound at bay, but there’s a dampness to the shoulder of Bill’s jumper when she draws back.

As though kicking into her role at work, Yaz shepherds the boys through the doors to the TARDIS to give the clearly familiar friends some breathing room. She lingers at the door to observe the way the Doctor sags against the younger woman, something twinging in her chest; like an anchor hooking into the seabed and giving in to a slight drag before it settles in the deep dark blue. But when cloudy green raises, seeking her out and offering up a reassuring, weepy smile, Yaz finds comfort in its private essence. She joists her thumb over her shoulder in silent communication that she’s there when she needs her, then slips into the deep gold of the ship. 

“Thought I’d lost you,” the Doctor whispers a few minutes later, swallowing against the lump in her throat. 

“Nah,” Bill shrugs, motioning over her shoulder to where Heather loiters a few feet away. “She had my back. Took me out into the stars; haven’t really looked back since. Can’t get rid of me that easily, anyway.”

“You look… well. Happy.” She squints when the four suns of Kinaria reach their highest and brightest in the orange skies above, and when it burns a little too much, she drops her gaze to focus on a pebble at her feet. There’s a smiley face painted in white over its pink surface, then a name, just below. _ Tommy _ , it reads. _ Tommy was here. _

“I am, yeah. Really happy.” Bill rocks forward, landing a playful nudge against the Doctor’s shoulder. “You look younger.”

“Pfft,” the Doctor scoffs, blowing blonde locks from her face. “I look exactly the same age as my previous incarnation, Bill. Don’t know what you’re on about.”

“_ Mate, _you’re no granddad anymore,” Bill laughs when the Doctor folds her arms. She’s surprised she doesn’t stomp her foot, too. “Fashion sense hasn’t changed, though. I should’ve known, really. What’s with all the rainbows? Trying to say something?” 

Even from a distance, Heather catches on with a faint snort. 

The Doctor flicks her gaze down to the colours emblazing her chest, then back up, furrowing her brows.

“Y’know, that whole confused puppy look was so much more effective with your old eyebrows.”

“I do miss them sometimes. Yaz says I wouldn’t suit them now, though. She has nice eyebrows, so I believe her,” the Doctor reels from the top of her head, words momentarily running away from her.

“Oh, I bet you do,” Bill teases, “Guess that explains the rainbows after all.”

When the blonde seems absolutely oblivious once more, Bill simply rolls her eyes. She nods towards the ship. “Mind if I take a peek? Been a while since I’ve been on board.” 

Just as she parts her lips to answer, the door clicks open in invitation. The Doctor sets her hands on her hips in mild frustration. “Right, so you drop the fam and I off in the middle of a sinking Titanic, then refuse to let us in, but the second Bill turns up, you open your doors? That’s favouritism, old girl. _ Favouritism.” _

“Scottish accent worked better, too, mate,” Bill notes, jogging over to the doors and slipping inside. “I think you’ve gone soft.” 

“I am _ not _ so—” the door swings back of its own accord just as she goes to step inside, catching her nose with barely enough force to hurt. It’s a teasing act, of course. “Very funny, old girl.” 

Bill takes in the golden interior of her friend’s ship with wide eyes and an unfiltered smile. The ship hums around her in warm greeting, so she pats one of the crystal pillars at her side. “Oh, mate. I’ve missed this place. Still feels the same, even though you’ve redecorated.” She turns back, an amused smirk replacing her awestruck smile. “Glad to see you’re out of your grunge phase.” 

The Doctor rubs her nose as she ambles after her, but at least now her eyes are dry. Her three best friends linger around the main console, questions churning. 

“Fam, meet Bill. Bill, meet the fam; Graham, Ryan,” she pauses to send Yaz a softer, more tentative smile than the one she shoots towards the rest of them. “And Yaz.” 

Bill’s gaze flickers to Ryan and Graham in turn, who each share a knowing smirk. “_ Fam? _She came up with that name, didn’t she?”

Resolutely, three heads nod. 

“I thought you liked it!” the Doctor implores, hopping up to the console to raise her arms and gesture to the golden room. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s —” Bill pauses, tilting her head, earning a low hum from the ship. “ — different, but the good kind.” She redirects her attention to the Doctor, then, catching the faint glisten to her pupils. “It was getting a bit musty in here, anyway.”

Affronted, the bridge of the Doctor’s nose wrinkles and she purses her lips like a child just before they throw a tantrum. If she hadn’t known him — no, _ her — _ wait, _ them? — _so well, she’d never guess the alien to be over a thousand years old. 

“So you’ve been on board before?” Ryan interrupts, loitering at the console until the Doctor spares him a look. He peels his hands away like a chided toddler, so she rewards him with a freshly acquired custard cream. 

“Oh, yeah. Used to travel with the Doctor— back when they were —”

“A white-haired Scotsman, right?” Yaz quips, reeling from the impressed look the Doctor grants her. 

Bill notices the exchange with a quirk of her brow, to which Ryan greets with a conspiring smirk and a nod. “Yeah. Gotta say, I sorta’ miss the grumpiness.”

“Oh, Bill, you haven’t seen her when there’s no custard creams left,” Graham notes with wide eyes and a telling look. 

“Wait — is that a _ biscuit dispenser _ ?” Bill raises both brows in amused surprise, stepping up to the source to press the pedal the Doctor had moments before. When a custard cream slips along the engineered metal, she regards her old friend with a shake of her head. “Doctor, you are _ so _ spoilt _ .” _

“Oi! Custard creams are a vital source of energy and, frankly, entirely underrated.” She plucks the biscuit up and offers it up to Yaz, who blushes upon acceptance. 

When Yaz notices Bill’s curious gaze on her, her cheeks warm further and she quickly diverts her attention. But there’s a look — a silent form of communication which passes between them — something akin to approval, which she wilts under like an origami boat in rough seas. “So, how did you two meet?”

And so, in between teasing remarks and stammered rebukes, the old friends retell their stories, their experiences, glossing over the hardest parts and romanticising the good as hopeful travellers do. 

“So how are you still… alive?” Yaz quips in intrigue when the story reaches its end, newfound respect lacing her words. 

“Oh! My girlfriend, Heather — she saved me. Well — technically, she’s a puddle, we both are, but — yeah.” 

“Honestly, that’s not the weirdest thing we’ve heard,” Ryan scoffs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Pretty cool, though. Never met a puddle before.”

Beside him, Yaz and Graham chuckle. The whole situation is a little peculiar, so the tidbit of information doesn’t phase them. 

When Bill takes her leave, they linger in the doorway. The suns have set and the sea looms like a shadow creeping ever closer. The sand crunches and swells beneath her feet. “It was really cool to meet you all, _ fam,” _she beams, wide and easy, though the nickname encourages a twitch of her nose still. 

The Doctor steps forward, brushing her hand against Yaz’s shoulder as she passes by. When Bill meets her gaze, it’s a little misty around the edges. The others hang back. “At least we can say goodbye properly this time, huh?” 

“Who knows? Maybe we’ll bump into each other again some time,” Bill shrugs, because she learnt a lesson from an old friend once — _ travel hopefully _, they said. 

“Maybe you’ll even recognise me better next time,” the Doctor teases, brows lifting. When Bill pulls her into a hug rather than answering snidely, she’s relieved to find it’s not just her who’s suddenly overcome with sentiment. She sinks into the hug with a sigh, offering up a squeeze when Bill sniffs, just once, against her shoulder. 

In the process of drawing away from the time lord, Bill glances over at the dark-skinned woman studying them from afar with a playful smirk, then back to her long-time friend. “Go get your girl, Doctor.”

“_ Bill, _ she’s not — we’re not — I can’t just —” the Doctor stammers, swallows heavily, and in the dim light the TARDIS disperses, the flush to her cheeks is obvious. 

“Oh, shut up, you daft idiot,” Bill interrupts. Her hands are in the pockets of her leather jacket now, and she takes a handful of steps backwards. “Take your chance. Everyone deserves love — you taught me that.” 

The Doctor turns her head briefly, catches Yaz’s waiting gaze and affectionate smile; softening before Bill’s eyes. When she looks back, her expression has shifted, head held a little higher, optimism dancing in emerald hues. “Worth a punt, I guess.”

“Oi, Ryan. wanna see something cool?” Bill calls, stifling a snort when her new friend nods his head in firm agreement. 

“Is that even a question, mate?” Ryan rubs his hands together, bouncing on his toes in the chill of the doorway. 

“Heather? Ready to head off?” Bill calls into the starry skies above, and, from afar, it’s as though a star falls from the sky. The petite blonde appears at her side in a flurry of glistening midnight air and fragments of glass as though she’d escaped from a children’s film. 

Even Graham has the cadence to look astonished, lips perking up into a childlike smile. 

“Keep her out of too much trouble, you lot,” Bill chimes towards the small group, delighting in the Doctor’s scoff. She weaves her fingers through Heather’s and focuses on the tingling warmth their exit requires. “Until next time?”

“Until next time,” the Doctor confirms, averting her gaze when an itchy, telling sort of sensation pricks at the corners of her eyes and leaves her throat dry. 

Dispersing into the night, the pairing leave only imprints in the sand behind. Even them, the tide is soon to steal. 

Keeping to her word, while Ryan and Graham slink back inside the TARDIS, the Doctor catches Yaz’s hand in a gentle pause. “Yaz?”

Turning, Yaz breaks into her usual, ever hopeful smile. “Yeah? You okay?”

“More than okay. There’s just something I should tell you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> THANK U FOR BETAING @prettyyoungking ily 
> 
> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are always appreciated if you have the time! <3


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